


Reckoner

by levendis



Series: Prompt Fics [92]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Bloodplay, Dom/sub Play, F/M, Sex Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 05:02:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7999561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levendis/pseuds/levendis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's no such thing as magic. They're doing the ritual anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reckoner

**Author's Note:**

> for anon, who prompted: Twelve/Clara, shallow penetration/edging/delayed orgasm, "We shouldn't be doing this". Bonus if First Time.

_One, the sweat of the unbeliever._

“You realize,” the Doctor says, as Clara wraps the cuffs around his wrists. “There’s no such thing as magic. This is a charade. Has to be.”

Chains through the rings and his arms pulled back, anchored to the concrete floor.

“What’s that thing you always say? ‘Keep them talking and they’ll tell you their plans’? Well.” She runs her hands along the chain, links taut, vibrating as he pulls against them. “Play along and you might last long enough to see the man behind the curtain.”

The collar on, his tendons flexing. His pale, thin skin already reddened against the bite of the leather; she cups his face gently, then hooks the chain into the ring, and the ring secured to the floor. 

 

 

_Two, the blood of the endless._

“You’re quite the multitasker,” she says. The knife in her hand.

“Hah.”

“But. Seriously. You’re alright with this?” The ceremonial knife, the milky grey stone in the pommel and the carefully-honed edge that could shave the hairs off a fly.

She’s asking herself, as well. The portal, the fact they’d never gone beyond kissing and heavy petting. She can’t quite believe she’s finally seeing him out of all those layers, let alone doing it like this, let alone the _thing_ they were warding off, were accompanied by.

The gate, and his trust in her, and his sparse scattering of hair and weirdly pink nipples. This is one way to do it, anyway.

“Please,” he says, pulling against the chains, just to feel the ground pull back. Bit lip, the wild look.

Her hand on his jaw and her eyes on his, hand steady around the handle of the knife. Letting it glance against his chest, only just, skin breaking and blood welling and the howl he’s keeping in the back of his throat. The blood dripping down to the floor. 

 

 

_Three, the conduit._

The circle drawn below them shivers, shakes apart. The Doctor trembles, chains clanked, yanked, muscles straining, as she slips the ring over his cock. Not a ceremonial ring, just something she’d found online. Bog-standard rubber thing.

“Okay?” she asks, hand cupping his balls.

“Okay.” Breathing hard, focused inwards.

“You won’t come until it’s finished,” she says. Hand trailing up over his belly, his chest, to the red line already healing. His skin hot, damp under her fingers.

“Right,” he says. “No. I won’t.”

 

 

_Four, the bones of the enemy._

“Lay back and think of Daleks, eh?” he gasps out, the rush of the world beyond going through him. The portal, lightning-arc, deepening its lines.

She places the Dalek sucker attachment down on the floor and giggles. “I mean. Whatever helps.”

The world beyond calling, howling through the circle. The fire, and they’re both sweating now.

 

 

_Five, the promise._

He’s shaking and keening and pulling against the chains keeping him down on the floor, as hard as he’s ever been. She kneels over him, knees to either side of his skinny legs. Hands on the ring and her hips moving down, her cunt teasing the tip of his cock.

“Please,” he says again. Red-faced, squirming, falling apart.

“Not yet.” She’s wet and aching and she kisses him, quickly, before pulling away. Admiring the mess of him, one hand resting just below her waistband. Not yet, not yet. But soon.

 

 

_Six, the covenant._

“This isn’t,” he says, half-gone. “It’s not how I wanted. For this. Us. I mean - ”

“It’s okay,” she says. She doesn’t trust herself to touch him, even chastely. “There’s always take two.”

He laughs, giddy and distant and self-loathing. “And to make it worse.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m enjoying this.” He stares at her, holds eye-contact until the lightning crawls up him again, his back arched and his mouth open.

Time, nearly. Almost there. The world beyond, arms open. She brushes his sweat-matted hair off his forehead, trails fingers to the pulse points behind his ears.

“Stay here,” she whispers. “Stay with me.”

 

 

_Seven, the reckoning._

It’s time, she can feel it. The lightning crawling up them both. Fire in the circle and he’s shaking, crying.

She slips the ring off his cock, letting her hands linger. The chains clanking as she pushes him down - as he falls down gratefully - limbs tangled and her head between his thighs. The unholy noise he’s making as she takes him into her mouth, lips around the head of his cock and then swallowing him whole.

“I can’t-” he yelps.

The lightning crackles. She fingers his arsehole in response.

He comes like an avalanche, spilling out of her mouth, and the world falls apart.

 

 

And that’s it. She pulls back, wipes her mouth off. He moans and blushes redder than she’d expect anyone of his complexion to be capable of.

“Congratulations,” she says. “Apocalypse averted. I think.”

He moans again, rolls away as far as the chains will let him. “Sorry,” he mumbles, face down on the floor.

“For what? The spectacular world-saving blowjob I just gave? Your remarkable performance?” She lies her hand flat on his left thigh, rubbing gently. “If it helps, think of it like ripping off a plaster. The kinky shit’s out of the way, now we can, y’know. _Make love_.”

The chains clanking as he curls up as far as they’ll let him. Half a smile on his face. “Just one thing. One thing I need from you.”

“Anything.”

“Look me in the eyes - ” and he stares at her, very earnestly. “And tell me there’s no such thing as magic.”

“Okay, right, well - ”

“There’s probably just a robot at the end of this. An advanced civilization. Mad scientist, like. But there’s no, you know, demons, or what have you.”

“Positive?” She grins, settles in behind him, jetpack-style. Gently undoing the cuffs around his wrists.

“Absolutely. Sex magic, come on. There’s most likely just some - some chemical reaction, okay. Or a mental energy. But not, you know. Actual magic.”

“Chemical reactions in your todger, copy that.”

He huffs, and she hugs him tighter. The circle dying out around them.


End file.
